i'll do better
by kaaterina petrova
Summary: The banshee cries and so the huntress returns.
1. i'll do better

**a/n:** my poor, lost Lydia. I just feel like Allison would've been absolutely furious at how they're treating her.

I wrote this, ooh, about a forever ago so it's a bit bleurgh but enjoy anyway?

**.**

**i'll do better**

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_"The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough."_

**—Colum McCann**

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**Lydia Martin **/_noun_/: seventeen. intelligent. banshee (pronounced: ban-_shee_.)

See: broken, tired, desperate.

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She thinks she's losing her mind.

**_Going to the lake house. Anybody up for some banshee-ing?—L_**

Desperate fingers run through her hair—_strawberry-blonde curls_, someone once would have corrected—as Lydia slips into her car and waits. Her phone's dropped on her lap and she's just waiting now—waiting for the trill that will mean she's got a message, that means someone might come with her.

And then it comes.

_Did you hear that?_

At first, it's faint. So horribly faint and that's what's annoying at first, because she can _feel_ it's there but she just can't hear it properly enough. So Lydia puts her ears to the wheel, fingers gripping it so tightly they've gone white, and she's listening desperately—_please_, she begs silently, _just tell me what it is, just tell me_—

**BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEP!**

She smacks her head in the back of her seat. Lydia jumps as her hand instantly reaches up to rub it better as she realises her face now has an imprint of her car horn. Her phone trills multiple times and she casts eyes towards it.

**1\. ****Can't. Busy with Malia—Stiles**

**2\. ****Sorry, Lydia. Maybe tomorrow?—Kira**

**3\. ****Got something to do with Stiles—Malia**

**4\. ****Training with Braedon—Derek**

Her breath escapes from her lips and then it's sudden red across her vision, pained red until another text pops up—

**5\. ****Lydia, maybe you should take a break today? Everyone else is coming over to mine. Do you want to come?—Scott**

Lydia's clutching her head—the voices haven't stopped, why don't they ever stop? No. No. No. She doesn't want to take a break, she doesn't want to come over, Scott; she doesn't doesn't _doesn't_ want to watch everyone else laugh and smile while the voices, who will only ever come to her, whisper—

_Come-come-come_

"Please, just—,"

_They-said-she'd-be-safe-they-thought-she'd-be-happy_

"I don't want—,"

_I-thought-you-loved-me-but-you-didn't_

"Stop, stop, stop, please—,"

_LYDIA-LYDIA-LYDIA-YOU'RE-GOING-MAD-SWEETIE_

The world spins and spins and she tries so hard to keep herself rooted but it doesn't work, it never works because she's just falling now. Lydia lifts her head up and because she doesn't know what else to do, the scream claws through her throat and falls.

Oh, God, she's begging, she needs someone, anyone, please, Allison, she wants her best friend back, she's all alone and there's nobody here and—

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Allison stands sadly on the Other Side, watching her best friend scream. "I'm so sorry, Lydia," she's breathing even as she moves closer, "Lydia, it's okay—please, don't—you're okay—," and even the lies sound false as they fall from her lips because this is Lydia Martin and she is _not_ okay.

Fury surges through the dead Argent and she's suddenly angry because this is _her best friend_, her best friend who is a banshee and slowly going mad because of all the voices that Allison can now hear and realise what it feels like to have small voices pushing, pulsing through your mind at every moment. Her best friend who is in her car screaming because she's all alone and there is nobody there, nobody is in her house, nobody in her driveway, nobody walking down the road—_nobody there_. Her best friend who made a quick joke text to everyone, secretly pleading for someone to come along but nobody came anyway and she's angry, angry, _angry_—

A streetlight somewhere in Beacon Hills explodes.

When the scream dies, Lydia falls against her seat in exhaustion. She whispers, "Allison, I need you..."

If she were still alive, Allison vows suddenly as she watches Lydia break, she'd make them _pay_. If she were still alive, she'd be there for Lydia. If she were still alive, she'd _do_ something.

A whole street of parked cars suddenly go off, alarms screeching, screaming, howling.

.

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**to be continued?**


	2. calm down, calm down, calm down

**a/n:** people like this! People actually like this! Okay, so due to the reviewers wanting a new chapter, I got to type this all up really quickly. Of course, it's not very much but enjoy anyway?

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**calm down, calm down, calm _down_**

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Lydia doesn't bother going to the lake house, in the end.

There's some commotion with a streetlight and some cars or something as she turns the corners tiredly, annoyed people swarming around the streets. Lydia throws them a confused glance and drives home.

She should be doing revision. She should be finding out the identity of the Benefactor. She should be—but she doesn't, she goes to Allison's grave, she cries, she eats ice cream, she goes to sleep.

When Lydia wakes up, it's a few minutes before she realises there were no nightmares. No clawing hisses, no screeches, no pleading, no nothing. In a happier mood than she's been in for forever, she dresses for school, eats breakfast and her mother presses a kiss to her cheek. She holds it with her the entire day.

"...don't get it—she's supposed to be helping us, for God's sake!"

"Malia, she's exhausted. Don't talk to her—,"

"But I want to know if I'm going to die or not and if Lydia's too stupid to do her banshee thing and..."

In school, she hears Scott, Stiles, Kira and Malia talking about her under their breaths. Her good mood fades. Lydia takes out her books, shoves them into her bags, turns to confront them. But they're gone.

There's a sudden drop in the temperature.

The bell rings, Lydia takes out a cardigan and goes to Science.

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Allison watches the janitor mutter something about the sudden cold and go hurriedly to check the temperature settings in the basement. She shakes back her hair, summons every ounce of strength she has, follows Lydia into Science.

Kira smiles uncertainly at Lydia who scowls at her, Allison snickers. Good old Lydia. Refusing to let anyone take advantage, as per usual. But she has work to do.

The class is in full swing by the time Allison manages to make her way across the classroom. She has to be very careful because if she doesn't concentrate completely, her focus is gone, she'll be gone. Breathing in and out carefully, focusing on the anger that pulls her here. The Argent stares at Malia, Malia who laughs with Stiles, demands answers from an exhausted Lydia, arrogant Malia, foolish Malia.

"Just let me go talk to her." Malia tugs on Stiles's sleeve. "I'll just say hi and see if she knows if we're all going to die or not."

"Malia," Stiles sighs, rubs his head. "You can't say that—Lydia, she—we don't know—,"

"Well, then let me find out!"

Before he can continue protesting, Malia's off, darting around the tables, ambushing Lydia so suddenly Lydia drops her beaker. Lightning-fast reflexes lets the were-coyote snatch the beaker from the air, flip it successfully so it launches into the air and drops into her fingers in a millisecond, with a smug smirk. Malia puts the beaker on the table. "Did you find out who the Benefactor is?"

Lydia looks a little startled at first, eyes on the beaker, and then eyes on Malia who is waiting impatiently. "No."

"But you should have found out by now!" Malia whines. "Aren't you supposed to be _smart_?"

That's when the fire starts.

"I—I don't know how it happened!" the girl who was working next to Lydia's table sobs, when the firefighters are gone and they're all outside. "It—it just started up out of nowhere! I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"Ssh, Malia, it's okay, you're okay." Stiles breathes in Malia's scent of woodsy musk, Kira clamours to check over Scott.

A sudden fierce breeze picks up. Kira's hair flies, Malia rips herself from Stiles's arms, Scott tightens his jacket. Stiles wonders about the strange weather. It's so cold, they wish they'd gotten thicker coats—but it's only April.

They don't notice Lydia dropping her cardigan on the bench she sits at—gosh, isn't it _warm_?

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It's night time and the rest of the pack are at Scott's.

"Where's Lydia?" Melissa plates up food for the hungry pack. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

"She said something about going back to the lake house." Kira rubs her head. It's so weird but today, she could've _sworn_ there was something at the stairs that made her trip up like that. Everyone else swears there was nothing there. "Find out more information, you know?"

"She's been at the lake house almost every day this week." Melissa's tone is disapproving, she looks at Scott.

"Mom, I'm really cold—is the heater broken?" Scott piles on the clothes.

"No, it's not." Melissa gives Scott a confused look and turns to the others. "About Lydia, I really think someone should bring her—,"

"Melissa, can I get another one of those cookie things?" Malia interrupts.

The sitting room light cracks, crumbles, crashes onto the floor, right next to Malia.

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Her front door is banging.

"Lydia! Lydia, are you there? Chris—,"

Lydia lifts her head from her desk, in a sleepy daze. She shifts at her papers, takes a minute to gather her bearings. She'd been at the lake house for a couple of hours, listening to that damned record player on repeat, straining until she'd called it a night. She'd driven back home to start revising on the assignment due next week. Someone bangs on her door again.

"Lydia!"

That sounded like—no, isn't he—wait...

"Lydia!"

"_Isaac_," Lydia breathes. She makes her decision in a split second, surges down the stairs, yanks open the front door. "Isaac!"

She's engulfed by strong arms and even stronger cologne, relaxing for the first time since the nightmares began. Isaac hugs her tight, squeezes her until Lydia coughs, "Can't ... breathe ... ribs ... cracking ... werewolf idiot ..."

Sheepish, he lets her go and checks her over. "Chris, she's here!" he calls as Chris Argent comes into view, after parking the car. He smiles warmly at her, embraces Lydia himself, greeting her affectionately.

"Lyds, you look ... fine." Isaac exchanges worried looks with Chris who looks equally confused.

"Oh, well, it's great to see you too, Isaac." Lydia feigns offence but she's ecstatic, grinning all over her face. She pulls the two inside her house. "Come on in, you two—when did you get back? How was France? Did you kick werewolf ass? Tell me you guys saw the Eiffel Tower—if you haven't, I swear I don't know you anymore—,"

"Lydia, Lydia, is everything okay?" Chris asks gently.

Lydia blinks. "What makes you say that?"

"Yesterday," Chris continues, "we thought you were in danger. We dropped everything, flew right back."

"What?" Lydia puts down the coffee mugs. "Why?"

Isaac replies, "Lydia, I heard you scream."

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**to be continued**

**.**

**a/n:** okay, so I feel like the whole Isaac hearing Lydia scream all the way from France is too big but I feel like it was all the helplessness, the exhaustion, the pure sadness of everything just piling up on Lydia that ricocheted out of her. And anyway, if her scream could summon Allison, why not Isaac?


End file.
